


Stained

by Tashilover



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Desert Bluff, Gore, Kevin is a creepy bastard, dub-con situations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-01-08 13:46:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1133349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tashilover/pseuds/Tashilover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was no such thing as perfection. Try telling Kevin that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Kevin found him in the street, unconscious.

The thing about Desert Bluffs was, there was no such thing as a  _clean spot_. Everything was covered in something. The birds slathered themselves on the gore collected from their meals. The street lamps dripped with sticky, thick blood from the daily rains. Even the fruit, if you cut them opened, bits of bone would tumble out, covered in the juice and intestines. Everything was stained.

Not this man, though. Kevin couldn't believe what he found, couldn't believe there was something so perfect to be seen in this world.

He looked like an angel, this man. The way his perfectly white lab coat spread out beneath him made it looked like he had  _wings_. His clothes were simple, perhaps a bit young for his age. There was a small hint of a beard on his otherwise perfect brown skinned jawline.

This man was not stained. Despite he laid surrounded by viscera, maggots, and flies, he remained perfectly clean. It was as if none of this world's filth could possibly touch him. On his lab coat, a small security name tag hanged off the front pocket. The angel had a name: Carlos.

And Kevin fell in love instantly.


	2. Chapter 2

Like Pandora, who slammed the lid on all the worlds evil, Kevin knew he had to protect Carlos from Desert Bluff. Nothing this perfect should be left out in the street. It was a shame Kevin was going have to drop his plastic bag full of severed heads, but he needed two hands to carry Carlos.

Kevin bended to one knee, trying to asses how to carry this man. Goodness, Carlos was even more handsome up close. A dark lock of curly hair was on his cheek, and Kevin couldn't resist. He reached out with a finger, gently moving it aside.

The brief moment of contact left a dark streak of blood across Carlos' cheek. Kevin panicked. How was he going to carry Carlos if Kevin's mere touch stained him?

Then slowly, incredibly, the blood disappeared from Carlos' cheek. It was like watching water evaporate on a hot pan. The blood sizzled, as it melted away into oblivion, leaving Carlos unsullied.

" _You're_   _perfect_ ," Kevin breathed. Fearless now, Kevin bent down and maneuvered Carlos' unconscious body into his arms. Immediately Kevin hissed, feeling his arms burn. It was like a million little needles, jabbing him all at once. It hurt, but not enough to incapacitate. He gritted his pointed teeth and ignored the pain, focusing his attention to getting home without getting spotted. If the local Girl Scouts saw him, they would eat Carlos. Then they would try to sell Kevin cookies. Then they would eat him too.

By the time Kevin got Carlos to his front door, his arms were practically numb. He could barely open his door, almost dropping his precious Carlos a few times in the process. Kevin eventually got inside, and though it would've been easy to simply heave Carlos' heavy body onto the couch, he deserved better than that.

He deserved the bed.

The bed in Kevin's sagged, heavily soaked through with blood. As soon as Kevin placed Carlos down, red spilled out from the sides, splattering Kevin's shoes and the floor below. And yet, despite the bed was like a soaked sponge, none of the blood touched Carlos. The blood bubbled around him, refusing to go near him, like he was water in a sea of oil. It was incredible to watch.

Even more, as Kevin stepped away in awe, he saw what had happened to his own arms.

The tingly, sharp feeling was still there, poking achingly at his skin. It wasn't the pain he was focused on. His arms were  _clean_.

No blood. No bits of meat hanging off of him. No gashes, no bruises, no signs of insects crawling under his skin.

Kevin couldn't believe it. He didn't know it was possible for skin to be...  _this_. Kevin couldn't even remember the last time he'd seen his flesh untouched by gore. Amazing.

Then of course, it was ruined when the ceiling dripped on him, splattering his clean arms with stomach acid.

"Aw, hell."

 


	3. Chapter 3

Kevin did his best to wipe off the mess from his arms but it was no use. His skin was already stained yellow and red, smearing the sickening colors into his pores.

Not Carlos though. It was  _so tempting_  to simply go back to him, climb into bed with him, and spoon him until Kevin was clean all over.

Let it not be said that Kevin wasn't a gentleman. Dinner first, then cuddling.

Kevin went into the kitchen, scouring his cupboards and fridge. He'd gone to the market specifically because all he had were a couple of canned goods, and half-used, opened bottles of spaghetti sauce. Now Kevin wished he'd made an effort to carry the bag of heads with him.

Maybe he could improvise. Okay, so he had some beans... corn... maybe he'll make vegetarian chili.

"Cecil?"

Kevin dropped the can of kidney beans (made with real kidneys!) and twirled around. Carlos, still perfectly clean and lovely, was leaning heavily against the doorframe of the kitchen. His eyes were wide and fearful as he struggled to keep himself upright. "You're..." Carlos shook his head. "You're not Cecil."

"No," Kevin confirmed. He took a step forward, trying to look innocent and totally harmless. "I'm Kevin."

"Where... where am I?"

"My house," Kevin said. When Carlos blanched, Kevin quickly added on, "Desert Bluffs."

"Desert Bluffs? But... Cecil said that place doesn't even exist!"

Well, that was rude. "I exist. Obviously."

Carlos casted an uncomfortable look around the kitchen. Of course it was unsettling to suddenly wake up in an unknown place. Kevin was going to do his best to be the best host he could ever be. "Would you like to take a seat?" He said, pulling out a chair from his kitchen table.

Carlos swallowed. "Is that..." he pointed at the chair. "An eyeball?"

Kevin quickly brushed it away. The eyeball fell to the ground and rolled away out of sight There was a still a small puddle of blood on the chair, but Kevin knew it would never touch Carlos. "Come, sit. You look like you're about to fall over."

It wasn't an exaggeration. Carlos did look sick. He was pale, and little droplets of sweat collected on his forehead. When he didn't move, Kevin came to him, took him by the arm and guided him to the chair. Carlos was stiff, uncomfortable, nearly flinching away from Kevin's touch. Kevin tried not to take it personally.

"Would you like some water?" He asked. He didn't bother to wait for a response from Carlos. He immediately went to the sink, and filled a glass.

Water was the only thing clean in Desert Bluffs. It was the only reason why Kevin even knew what the word  _clean_  meant. It rained blood every morning. The sewers spat out greasy pieces of fat during the summer, filling the air with a stench that was too hard to ignore. Sometimes, without reason, Kevin would wake up in the morning and find bloody bits of skin under his nails, and no knowledge of where it came from.

Like Carlos, the water from the taps was untouched by its environment. Kevin held up the glass to his eye level, staring in awe at the shimmering clear blue color. It was still possible for the water to be stained, but for the few moments as it sat in the glass, it was the most perfect thing Kevin has ever seen.

He turned, wanting to give the most perfect object in the world to the most perfect man in the world. He set the cup down in front of Carlos. Kevin stepped back, wanting to watch and take the whole scene in.

Carlos raised an eyebrow at Kevin's actions. He glance went back to the glass. "Why is the water the only thing here not covered in... blood?"

"I don't know," said Kevin honestly. Like the good journalist he was, investigating the water source was always one of his goals. Something always took precedence, like the opening of the new school, the burning of the same school, then the opening of the new strip mall on top of the ashes of the old school. No matter how many times he wanted to investigate, he always got sidetracked. "I'll find out... one day."

Carlos didn't look happy. He pushed the glass away, not wishing to drink it. "I would like to go home now."

"I..." No, no, no, no,  _no_. Carlos couldn't go home  _now_. Not when Kevin had so much to do, so much to  _say_. He wasn't ready to part just yet. "Why?"

"Because I want to go  _home_ ," Carlos said. "If you don't want to help me... then I'll go..."

He tried standing up. His legs wobbled with effort, his arms shook as they leaned on the table and chair. Kevin ran out, grabbing Carlos around the chest just as Carlos' knees collapsed beneath him, forcing them both to the ground.

The blood on the floor evaded them.

"You're weak," Kevin murmured. His arms burned hotly from touching Carlos' body. "You can't go outside like this."

"Please," Carlos begged quietly. He sounded exhausted. "Please..."


	4. Chapter 4

Carlos had been investigating a hole at the time. A hole. It was not like the hole in the men's bathroom, which swirled in colors of purples and red, and used as a trashcan. It was not like the hole in Cecil's backyard which spat out garden gnomes during rainy days. (Cecil simply threw them back in.)

The hole Carlos had been investigating was more like a sink hole, deep and dark and it looked as if it went on forever. He even gave into a school yard urge and kicked in a stone, hoping to hear it hit the bottom. The stone yelled out, "WHEEE!" as it fell, and its little voice simply disappeared from existence.

"Should we get rope?" One of the interns asked as Carlos stared down into the darkness. "To test the current length?"

"Yes," Carlos had said, turning around to point where the equipment sat.

The ground must've been weak. He must've been standing too close to the edge. When he turned and leaned his weight against his back foot, the ground suddenly gave way, and Carlos fell into the sink hole, also disappearing from sight.

When he woke, he was sure he was in hell.

And this person, this _thing_ standing in front of him, Carlos had no idea if he was the devil or demon in disguise. He looked like Cecil, sounded like Cecil. Even with his clothes soaked in blood, Carlos would have thought of him to be Cecil regardless. It wouldn't be the first time Carlos came home to find Cecil splattered with red.

It was the eyes that clued Carlos in. Kevin had none.

Kevin wasn't blind. He didn't have his eyelids closed- there was literally nothing there. All there was, in the blackness of Kevin's eye sockets, was an endless void. Carlos was sure if he looked in, like peeping into a keyhole, he would see eternity.

He avoided staring at Kevin's face as much as he could. "I have to go," he said, trying to detangle himself from Kevin's arms. "I need to go back home."

"You are home."

"No. Let go of me!"

Carlos was able to break free one of his arms, brought up his fist, and slammed it across Kevin's cheek.

It fucking _hurt_.

For a blinding second, Carlos thought he broke all of his fingers. His whole hand felt like it was on fire, and the swift, hot pain took away rational thought as he kneeled there, clutching his aching fist to his chest.

At least it got Kevin to back away. He had stumbled back with a small cry, his hand shooting out to catch himself on the table. The whole front of his shirt was suddenly clean, his arms free of blood, and even the place where Carlos had punched him was absent of gore. Carlos looked down at his own chest, expecting his shirt to be stained, but no. His white lab coat was pristine, except for the brown spot when he had spilled ammonia on himself earlier in the week.

His fist, however, had been cut when he punched Kevin. It was a nasty cut too, already the skin around the bleeding wound bubbling and bruising.

Kevin clutched at his cheek, mouth gaped open. He was staring at Carlos' fist, horrified. "No..." he said. "No, you can't be stained!"

Okay, clearly this guy was insane. Mustering all his strength, Carlos surged to his feet and dashed for the front door.

"No!" Kevin yelled from behind. "Don't go out there!"

Better out there than here. Ignoring Kevin's wails, Carlos wretched opened the door. He ran out of the house, into the street, going as fast and as far as his legs could take him.


	5. Chapter 5

If Carlos though Kevin's house was horrifying, it was nothing compared to the outside world.

He ran out into the streets, focusing primarily on getting away. He let his feet fly, letting the world around him fade into the background. His only thoughts repeated the same line over and over: get away, get away, get away. Keep moving, don't slow, keep going. Don't look back, keep running, go, go, go, go!

Carlos never played sports back in high school, and as a scientist he spent most of his time sitting on a chair with wheels. He had a plump stomach which Cecil admitted he adored. And when you live above a pizza parlor, you tend to eat more pizza than you realize.

That being said, after running for only a minute, Carlos was winded. He didn't consider himself fat, but he _felt_ fat. He had just enough energy to climb over a fence, scramble over to the large, blue recycling bin and hid behind it.

Just in time too. Kevin came running down the street after him, calling his name. Carlos pulled his legs up, making himself small as possible. He turned his head just enough to peer out from behind the bin to watch Kevin run in a different direction, away from him.

Once he was gone, Carlos allowed himself to gasp for air like an idiot. The stitch in his side ached dully, pinching every time Carlos took a breath. He pressed a hand against it though it did nothing to help.

He didn't dare move, not for another ten minutes at least, afraid Kevin would circle back.

He waited. And waited. When those ten minutes finally passed, he uncurled himself. As tired as he felt, the run did wake him up a little. It was probably the adrenaline and he should take advantage of his alertness before he calmed from his high.

He placed a hand on the recycling can to steady himself. He stood up.

The can shifted under his weight, toppling over. Carlos jerked and stumbled out of the way, the can barely missing him. The can struck the ground, the lid fell open, and all of its contents rolled out.

Carlos first thought they were plastic bags filled with flesh-colored paper. On a second look, he saw they were filled with severed heads.

Dozens of them, all in various stages of rotting. Women and men, mingled together.

Carlos backed away from the heads, his mouth opened in horror.

He had been so focused on getting away, he didn't stop long enough in his run to see, to really look at the environment he was in. Now everything was coming in clear. All the blood, the horror, the stench of it all had him doubling over, gagging.

He needed to get out of here.

 

 

 

 

 

Kevin at some point had to stop. He wasn't an athlete, he was a radio host for god's sake, he didn't have endurance. What he had were hemorrhoids from sitting down too long, along with the occasional case of restless leg syndrome, which were a terrible combination. His legs sometimes got so restless, they popped off and ran away, leaving Kevin to sit for another two hours, waiting for them to come back.

One time his left leg came back with a tattoo. Seriously, who gave him a tattoo? Last he heard, you needed permission from the head before giving ink to disembodied limbs. Kevin should sue.

He couldn't find Carlos. Horrific panic rose inside his chest, making it hard to breath. This was all his fault. If only he was a little more gentler, calmer, less eager. Kevin would rather never see Carlos again if that meant Carlos would stay pure.

Kevin needed help.

Who could he turn to during this hour of need? Who could he trust? He needed somebody who only wanted Carlos' best interests at heart.

A thought popped into his head. He reached around to his back pocket, taking out his phone. He had one number saved on his address list he has never called, not until today. Thank goodness he never deleted it. Kevin dialed in.

It rung twice before the person on the other side answered. " _Hello? This is Cecil."_


End file.
